


Major Depressive Disorder (Keith)

by AllTimePhan73



Series: A Brief Enquiry into Klance Disorders [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Depression, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTimePhan73/pseuds/AllTimePhan73
Summary: Depression/dɪˈprɛʃ(ə)n/Noun: depression1. feelings of severe despondency and dejection.TW: Depression, suicide attempt, self harm.





	Major Depressive Disorder (Keith)

Keith walked around school with his own personal raincloud. It hovered above him, releasing a substantial amount of rain whenever Keith even moved. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying the sunshine beating down on them whilst he was stuck in the dark. His limbs constantly felt like lead and getting up to go to school was next to impossible. His bed covers were the only place he found solace and so he wrapped himself up in them like a burrito as often as he could. The only reason he forced himself into school, despite being a zombie, was because he didn’t want to risk being kicked out of yet another foster home. He was already at his fourth and the first three had been far from accepting of his sexuality and deteriorating mental health.

Due to his lack of friends, he spent his lunch times alone inside an empty classroom. He slouched down on the floor, glaring at his sandwich as if he was the sole reason that his parents weren’t around. The food always ended up in the bin because he had long since realised that his appetite had given up on him. He’d just sit in the classroom and stare ahead at nothing or, on the better days, he’d have the energy to scan the pages of a book. That was a rare occurrence.

He had become indifferent to the sting of his wrists, almost as if the pain had become the norm. Each morning he’d pull on a hoodie and the fabric would brush right up against fresh scars but he didn’t even blink. Each day was the same routine. Get up, get dressed, go to school, come home, sleep, wake up at a ridiculous time, find some way to briefly take away the numbness whilst the house was silent, sleep again. It was a continuous circle that went round and round… Keith was fed up of how mundane it was.

Whilst everyone at school buzzed with positive energy and mindlessly chatted with their friends, Keith observed. He was trapped inside his own bubble, watching as the world moved around him and he was stuck in the same goddamn place. His entire life was set out in front of him. He was either going to die on the streets after his foster parents kicked him out at eighteen or he was going to get an office job he inevitably hated. Happiness was something foreign that he was unfamiliar with.

His entire life, he was destined for depression. His mother had walked out on him and his dad, disappearing off of the face of the earth when he was only five years old and much too young to understand why his mother couldn’t tuck him into bed anymore. His father had been killed when he was just eight and then he was blindly thrown into the foster system. For a few years after his dad passed away, he was sent to meet with the school counsellor once a week but that didn’t help him. He didn’t want to require therapies and drugs just to find meaning in such a boring and dark life. Keith had lost his flashlight with his parents so he couldn’t navigate through the darkness any longer.

Keith sank down against the wall, his bare arms out in front of him. White skin had been destroyed and all he could see was the colour red. It always had been his favourite colour. At first it was because it was the colour of strawberries, blushed cheeks, the nose of that clown that had made Keith laugh for hours at his sixth birthday party... Then it was because it was the colour of fire, danger and blood. 

Right there, he could have ended it. It would have been easy. It would have been easy. His foster parents would have been none of the wiser, sleeping peacefully in the comfort of their bed. If he died, he would simply become a statistic that no one really thought about again. His name would fade out of existence until it was like he had never been alive at all.

What stopped him from hurting himself further was a light knock on the door, followed by a tiny, “Keith.”

Slowly, he lifted up his head. His hands were gripping a blade that he had broken from a pencil sharpener months and months ago and they were shaking friendly. What was stopping him from finishing it? His foster mother wouldn’t care; maybe she’d even cheer him on.

“You okay in there?”

Keith’s bottom lip wobbled as panic set. He stood up to grab a tissue but didn’t anticipate how lightheaded he was going to be. His legs gave out and he gasped, loud enough for his foster mother to hear.

“I’m coming in, okay honey?” Keith didn’t respond. He couldn’t. She barged in and spotted her foster son hunched over by the bathtub, his arms bloody. “Oh, Keith… What have you done?” She approached him slowly; cautiously. She grabbed a wad of tissues and pressed them against Keith’s arms, watching as red soaked through them. “I think you need to go to the hospital. Don’t close your eyes, okay? Everything’s going to be okay. I promise. We’re going to get you help and you’re going to get better. Stay with me… please… I can’t lose you.”

Keith’s eyes felt heavy as his foster mother screamed for his foster father. His breathing was shallow and so much red was covering the bathroom that had once been red and innocent. “Just… let me die…” He murmured, voice quiet and barely there. It was much like his entire existence. He’d hide in the shadows and never once made himself known.

“No… I can’t do that. I don’t think you understand how much I love you,” She choked out a loud sob, gripping Keith’s hand inside her own. “I was never able to get pregnant so finding out I could foster a kid was like a miracle for me. You’re my miracle, Keith. Don’t leave me now, please… I’m sorry, honey. I need to know you’re with me. Can you speak to me, please? The ambulance is on its way.”

“I’m sorry…” Regret. “I’m so sorry… I love you too, mum…” Regret, regret, regret. His foster mother smiled ever so softly: never once had Keith called her mum before. She was adamant on hearing Keith saying it again.


End file.
